A Simple Dinner Amongst Friends
by lp2k
Summary: Fred and George ask Hermione to dinner, and explain some things. UPDATED with second chapter. Fred/Hermione/George.
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: This story takes some liberties with the timeline, assuming that the twins remained at Hogwarts at least partway through their seventh year. Also, I've decided to ignore Fred's death in DH. Also, I don't own any of these characters, and am grateful to the author for their use._

_****************************************************************_

At her breakfast table this morning, Hermione had contemplated the owl-delivered message in her hand, momentarily oblivious to the tawny owl perched on the back of her chair awaiting her response. She'd chewed her bottom lip pensively for a moment, then reached for a quill and scrawled a brief note at the bottom of the page, before rolling the scroll back up and reattaching it to the owl, offering him a drink from her water glass, and sending him on his way.

Now, standing before her closet in a bra and slip, Hermione picked up the note from her bed and examined it again, looking for clues:

"Masters F. and G. Weasley," the note had read, "humbly request that Mistress Hermione Granger do them the great honor of consenting to dine with them this evening, the 9th of September. If Miss Granger is amenable, we would ask her to advise us by return owl of an acceptable time at which to arrive by Floo and escort her.

"Signed, your servants,

"Fred & George"

Under this formal missive, printed in shimmering purple ink on a light green paper, was Hermione's handwritten addition:

"7pm."

The owl had returned again as she was dressing for work, with the same re-rolled scroll. Either Fred or George had added a note under hers:

"Wear a dress. –F&G."

_Well, what in the world did that mean?_ Hermione dropped the note back onto her bed for the third time, shaking her head. She'd assumed at first that this over-the-top invitation was simply their way of proposing what she expected to be a casual dinner with drinks among friends. The dress angle, though, added a whole new level of complexity. Knowing the Weasley twins for as long as she had, Hermione was skeptical enough of any instructions from them; nevertheless, she surveyed the few dresses in her closet as she waited for her hair to dry. The time was 6:30pm, and she had no idea what to expect.

*********************************

By 7:30, she was seated across a small table from the twins, in a quiet Muggle fine dining establishment with subdued lighting and an excellent wine selection. She'd been surprised when they arrived perfectly on time, and suitably attired for an excursion into Muggle London. Both men wore casual suits, Fred's charcoal grey with a purple shirt, George in black with green checkered tie. Hermione herself wore a black dress she'd selected at approximately 6:55, and which she deemed appropriate for nearly any level of formality. Arriving at her flat, Fred and George had taken charge, ignoring her questions, managing the non-magical transportation without a hitch, and breezing past the restaurant's maître d' with a wave – apparently they'd taken her response for granted and made a reservation. Hermione was often amazed at how efficient the twins could be when they wanted to accomplish something – a trait she'd had occasion to resent as a House Prefect, she thought, recalling their superbly-orchestrated war against Dolores Umbridge with a smile.

"And what are you grinning about, may we ask?" George twirled his wine glass as he regarded her over the luxuriously-appointed table.

"Oh, just recalling old times," she responded, raising an eyebrow and smirking at them. She knew they couldn't tolerate being left in the dark.

"Any times in particular?" Fred returned her teasing smile, with some meaningful eye contact added for good measure.

Hermione felt a drop in her stomach – she'd been thinking of the twins' various schemes at Hogwarts, but she knew immediately that Fred was referring to an entirely different occasion. It was one she remembered with clarity, although she hadn't brought out that memory in quite some time…

*********************************************

_Hermione ran down the darkened, deserted hall, away from Ron and that ridiculous Lavender. Also away from Harry, whose well-meant but helpless attempts to comfort her had grown exasperating. After thoroughly embarrassing herself with the attacking bird incident, she thought a walk alone might clear her head of the jumbled thoughts that filled it every time she saw Ron._

_Away from him, she was – as always – mystified by the warm feeling she felt for him. Was it attraction? Affection? Hermione had little experience with such matters, and found that it was difficult to tell the difference; years of friendship had obscured any clear intuition about what relationship she really wanted with the red-haired boy. _

_Hermione paced restlessly along the dark corridor, muttering to herself, talking through the problem with herself as she often did. Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't even look up until she collided roughly with a taller body, falling back upon her rear on the stone floor. _

"_Oy, Hermione!" Looking up, she found herself staring into the gleaming eyes of Fred – she was fairly sure it was Fred – Weasley, who was standing directly in her path along with his brother. He stretched out a hand and pulled her off the floor._

"_Something on your mind?" George raised an eyebrow knowingly, making Hermione wonder how much of her disjointed mumblings the twins had been privy to. She looked from one lanky boy to the other. _

"_George, I believe our Hermione is having boy troubles," Fred speculated. Hermione opened her mouth to deny his charge, but found she was unable to get a word in edgewise, as was often the case with the twins._

"_Surely not pining over our dolt of a little brother?" George queried. She clamped her mouth shut, in hopes of revealing as little as possible to the two Hogwarts students most likely to tease her over her infatuation, but felt her hot cheeks giving her away as she looked down at her sneakers._

"_Because that would be rather foolish, Hermione," Fred continued, in an unexpectedly soft voice. Chancing a quick look up at him, Hermione was astonished to find him standing just a few inches away from her, watching her with a rare expression of seriousness on his face. She felt her fear of being made fun of dissipate under his steady, if rather unreadable, gaze._

_She tilted her chin upward at Fred, as if daring him to explain why he thought her foolish. He held her eyes, but the response came from behind her, where she was suddenly aware that George was now standing, also close enough that she could feel his body heat._

"_We're still not sure what you see in him, of course-" George's breath played upon her neck as she twisted her head around to see him._

"_The scrawny build-" Fred again, now lightly holding her upper arm, keeping her from turning very far._

"_The mediocre Quidditch skills-" George's right hand rested itself softly on her hip, pulling her back against him until their bodies touched slightly._

"_The poor performance in school-" Fred also moved closer, so that she was gently, but very effectively, pinned between the two Gryffindor beaters, now discovered to be surprisingly muscular for their height._

"_But if it's tall, academically-disinclined Quidditch players you're interested in-" George brushed her long hair away from her neck, sending a tingling sensation straight to her core in a way that Ron's friendly, occasional touches never had._

"_We can think of not one, but two much better candidates for your affections," finished Fred, finally ending the sensory tug-of-war the two brothers were creating in her body by leaning forward to kiss her briefly on her shocked, open lips. At the same time, George's lips touched her neck just once before he backed away, joined by his twin. Hermione gasped, as much at the sudden loss of contact as at the actions preceding it. _

"_Fred and I've talked about it, and we won't bring it up again," said George. "We just wanted you to know."_

"_In case you come to your senses about dear ickle Ronnie anytime in the near future," added Fred, with a smirk._

_Hermione nodded, not sure she could find the air to speak. She remained standing in place until the brothers had faded from view, then allowed herself to collapse into a convenient niche in the wall. She hadn't spoken a word, and the encounter had lasted less than a minute._

_*********************************************_

…As Hermione regained her sense of awareness, the first thing she noticed was that Fred and George were both watching her intently, so intently that she was convinced Fred had dropped that hint deliberately. She was suddenly acutely conscious of her body: her neck and chest white against the black dress; her pulse racing, visible at her throat; her body trembling and hot. Hoping to cover her flustering, she picked up her wine glass and drained it; Fred instantly moved to refill it.

"I _told _you she remembered, you git," said Fred, glancing at his twin. George nodded his head in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes on Hermione.

"What do you mean?" Hermione's voice was throaty after the wine she'd just consumed far too quickly.

"See, Hermione, George and I-" Fred broke off with another look at George, who, for the first time ever, hadn't already started to complete his sentence. George was studying Hermione, and it took a moment for Fred's pause to register.

"I guess you know we had a bit of a falling out a few weeks ago," George started. Hermione inclined her head in agreement; it had been an extremely uncomfortable time for all who knew the Weasleys, as it represented the first and only serious divergence between the twins. "Well, it was over a girl," George said. He looked down at his wineglass, found it empty, refilled it and drank deeply.

"A girl we were both… interested in," added Fred. "We had a row over who would get to make a move first-"

"But we couldn't seem to reach a compromise," said George.

"But you two have dealt with that problem before," interjected Hermione. "I remember when I was a fourth-year, you both had a crush on Katie Bell, but you worked it out somehow, right?"

"Sure, it's come up, but I guess neither one of us felt very strongly about the girl in question before, so we just flipped a coin or something," Fred answered.

"You _flipped _a _coin_?" Hermione was prepared to contest the notion of basing romantic relationships on a coin toss, but her comment fell on deaf ears as Fred and George concentrated on finishing their explanation of whatever it was they were trying to explain.

"This time," George went on, "it was like neither of us could give in, so we kept arguing, and then we didn't talk for awhile." The brothers exchanged slightly ashamed expressions at the memory.

"And then Bill sent us a Howler advising us that as we were both expected to attend Fleur's birthday dinner, we'd better just sort it out before then, or else." Fred grinned wryly. "So we worked out a solution, we think." He exchanged another look with his brother, this one less clear in its meaning.

Hermione rolled her eyes, impatient with all the significant glances, especially as the twins normally appeared to communicate by pure telepathy. "And?"

"And we've decided it would be best if we both pursued... this girl," George concluded.

"You mean you're going to let her decide who to date instead of, say, rolling a die or something?"

"Nope," replied Fred, ignoring her sarcasm entirely. "We're going to pursue her together." As she took in his meaning, he added with a grin, "We just hope she can handle dating both of us at once."

"We realize it's a daunting proposition, but we think this particular girl can manage it," agreed George.

"Well, that's an… interesting approach," said Hermione after a pause. "Be sure to let me know how it works out, won't you? Right," she added, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice, "so, what's with all the looks?"

"Er, Hermione?" Fred looked at his brother, sheepishly this time. "It's you."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione looked back and forth between Fred and George, rendered speechless for one of the very few times in her life. Finally she closed her mouth, which had been hanging open in shock, and began furiously to think.

"It's- me? _What's_ me?" She looked suspiciously at the brothers, not sure what the joke was, but quite sure it was there somewhere.

"C'mon, Hermione, don't make us spell it out," complained George. "It's taken us weeks just to get up the courage to talk to you." Hermione was surprised to observe that the normally self-possessed Fred and George did actually look rather… shy at the moment.

"Look, is this a joke?" she demanded, eyebrows raised forcefully, catching each twin in turn with a sharp glance. "Because honestly, if it is it's not really very funny."

"A _joke_?" Fred asked incredulously. "If you knew how bad things have been the last few weeks, you wouldn't have to ask, Hermione," he said, not breaking eye contact as he spoke.

"Alright, so…" Hermione, unconscious of herself, was chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully again. "So you're suggesting what, exactly?" She was not about to let them off the hook without spelling it out, in fact – long experience had taught her that making assumptions was dangerous with the Weasley twins.

"What we're suggesting, of course, is that we'd like to date you," George said, still not cracking a smile.

"If you're up for it," added Fred, lips quirking a tiny bit.

Hermione was continuing to scrutinize both boys' faces, but discovered no sign of deceit, just two sets of eyes watching her, looking for all the world as if her answer had the power to make them either jubilant or despondent.

"After that little display earlier, you can't say you're not at least a little attracted to us, you know," Fred reminded her, his small grin becoming a bit more pronounced, even as George's expression grew yet more serious.

"No, well, I never said that, did I?" Hermione shot back, distracted by her thoughts until she realized what she'd admitted.

The twins, too, lost no time jumping on her words. "Then if you fancy us, what's the problem?" asked George, leaning in, eyes following her lips.

"Surely you're not afraid you can't cope with us both, are you?" Fred, who had moved his chair closer to Hermione's, stretched out a long finger to move a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No," she finally said, looking up at last to meet their gazes. "No, I don't think 'afraid' is the right word. 'Crazy,' maybe, for even considering this."

Fred and George broke into simultaneous, identical grins. "In that case," said Fred, "we'd like to invite you back to our place for further… consideration."

"What about dinner?" Hermione asked, although the fluttering in her stomach prevented her from feeling the slightest bit hungry.

"Oh, we already asked the waiter to wrap it up to take home," replied George.

"You mean you assumed I'd agree to come home with you?" Hermione demanded.

"We figured you'd either come home with us, or throw your drink at us and leave, and either way we'd be taking the food to go," said George, taking her arm as she got up from the table. Fred, on her other side, placed his hand on the small of her back in a proprietary manner – she'd have to speak to him about that later – and the two brothers guided her out of the restaurant, food in paper bags and stowed magically in her purse.

******************************************

The twins' flat was unexpectedly comfortable, with matching chairs and sofa grouped around a fireplace, and a well-stocked bar. Hermione had been unsure of how to manage the seating – should the three of them sit together on the sofa? Which twin should she face? Her analytical mind spun with the sheer choreography of it all. However, Fred and George resolved the question for her: eschewing the formal seating arrangement, she had been settled in on the floor among the cushions, joined by the twins carrying drinks for everyone. Fred and George sat on either side of her, both near enough that she could detect their personal scents, similar but unique. Fred smelled like grass and chocolate, while George's scent reminded her more of a greenhouse, loaded with subtleties.

"Hermione," began George, "we don't intend to rush you-"

"But we'd like you to get to know us a little more, and vice versa," finished Fred.

"What would you like to know?" asked Hermione, a little more timidly than usual for her.

"For one thing, we'd like to know where on earth you've been hiding that dress," Fred said, allowing his eyes to move down her body, possessiveness obvious in them.

Hermione blushed, and resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest, which was much more exposed in her dress than in her typical attire.

"More to the point," added George, "where've you been hiding that body, Hermione?" As her face flamed hotter, he moved closer, letting their hips touch. Detecting her gasp, still so familiar after the encounter at Hogwarts years ago, he made eye contact with Fred over her head. Obeying a silent command, Fred inched closer too, placing his arm behind Hermione on the sofa she was leaning against.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, feeling herself held captive by George's intense gaze.

"I think it's perfectly obvious what he means," said Fred, from his position on her other side. "You've got a gorgeous body that some witches would pay a lot of Galleons to buy, and you keep it under those awful robes and baggy clothes," he elaborated, while his arm found its way around Hermione, snaking around her waist.

Hermione found herself squirming, while not exactly trying to dislodge Fred's embrace. Her movement brought her into alarmingly close contact with George, who wrapped his arm around her from the other direction and brought his lips to her ear.

"I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we've spent a fair number of hours wondering what we'd find if we ever got you here," he murmured softly, raising the tiny hairs along the sensitive shell of her ear.

As she moaned, Fred moved his hand up her side, caressing the outer curve of her breast. "And?" She barely got the question out, as George began to stroke the side of her face, skimming over her lips enticingly with his fingers.

"And you're more than we expected, Hermione," said Fred firmly, finally making contact through the fabric of her dress with her aching nipple, just as George covered her lips with his own, claiming the groan that was issuing from her mouth.

George's free hand floated down to land on her thigh, where it traced maddening circles under her skirt, and approached the sweet place where it joined with her core. "Merlin, woman, do you know you're dripping wet?" he asked against her lips. But his fingers passed over her center without touching her, repeating their circular caress on her other thigh. Bucking her hips once, she made a pleading noise which was lost in George's deep kiss, but felt by Fred, who was busying himself kissing the back of her neck while at the same time working apart the catches on the back of her dress. When he realized what his brother was doing to Hermione, he brought one hand around to join the other at her core, and breathed in sharply when he found the pool of moisture awaiting him there.

Less patient than his brother, Fred immediately pressed two fingers – already slick with Hermione's juices – against her opening, demanding entry. When her lips parted and his fingers slid inside, she gasped and arched her back; when he crooked his fingers inside her to reach a more sensitive spot, her repeated thrusting caused the three of them to topple over on the cushions.

After some rearrangement, Hermione found herself lying halfway atop George, who had diverted his attention to working her breasts, alternately squeezing and pulling on them, occasionally dipping a hard nipple into his mouth. Fred, stretched out next to Hermione, had his fingers buried deep in her, pushing forcefully and prizing each needy sound that he could wring from her lips. She had gotten her arms wrapped around George, but Fred had captured her mouth, thrusting his tongue in counterpoint to the rhythm set by his fingers.

Hermione was dazed and rather over-stimulated by the attentions being given to her; she estimated that either of the twins alone would have been much more than she was used to. Together, they were a force of nature, and she found it impossible to do anything except surrender herself to the moment.

Her body, which had arrived at the same conclusion effortlessly several minutes before, felt as if it were approaching critical mass – sensations she'd never experienced were traveling from her lips and breasts directly to her core, where a fusion reaction was underway. Her hips bucking wildly, George relinquished his hold on her breasts to enfold her firmly in his arms; Fred's fingers pumped wildly in her pussy, his mouth crashing into hers with each thrust.

"Come for us, Hermione," George crooned into her ear. "We want you to scream for us now, and then we're going to take you into the bedroom and fuck you properly, do you hear me?" Hermione could only grunt her agreement as her climax approached, and she felt her nerves go raw under their caresses.

"That's it, baby," Fred encouraged, feeling her pussy walls clench around him. "That's a good girl, Hermione," he added, and had to grab her with his free arm when her body seemed to explode, threatening to tear her away from them. Both brothers held her as spasms wracked her frame and cries of pleasure issued from her lips, relaxing their grips only when she had subsided into a quivering mass in their arms.

After a few moments had passed, or perhaps several hours, George began to stir from his position beneath Hermione. Fred lifted her body slightly to allow his brother to reposition himself; as he did, he noticed that her body was shaking slightly.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" he asked with concern, moving her hair to see her face, which, to his relief, was smiling, not tear-streaked.

Laughing, she answered. "I think we may have reached the point in the evening where it would be appropriate to take off this dress, don't you?"


End file.
